


Hands

by elumish



Series: Werewolves 101 [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 07:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4952443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elumish/pseuds/elumish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hands.” Derek jerks his chin towards the headboard. “Up there."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This is mediocre unedited smut. Read at your own peril.
> 
> Also it's set for registered users only because of reasons. Sorry.
> 
> This is set between D. Hale and Hales.

“Hands on the headboard.”

Stiles blinks up at Derek from where he’s sprawled across the bed like a horny starfish. “What?”

“Hands.” Derek jerks his chin towards the headboard. “Up there.”

“Okay, I’ll play this game.” He’s not sure what’s going on yet, but it seems like it could be fun. And besides, Derek is shirtless, and his pants are unbuttoned, which means that they could actually have sex. Maybe. Finally. He puts his hands on the headboard, holding on. “Want to explain?”

“I’m proposing a little deal.” Derek smirks down at him, shifting so his muscles ripple in fantastic ways. “You keep your hands on the headboard, I give you a blow job.”

Holy shit. “And if I don’t?”

“Then I stop.” Derek shrugs. “Or I tie your hands there, don’t give you a choice.” Stiles’s hips jerk up involuntarily, and Derek’s smirk grows. “You like that, don’t you? You like me taking that choice away from you? But not this time. This time you’re going to hold on. You got that?”

“Yeah.” Stiles swallows. “Yeah. I’ll hold on.”

“Good.” Derek takes a few steps closer, runs a finger down Stiles’s stomach; his entire chest shudders, and he closes his grip down to keep from letting go. “Do you have a safe word?”

“I, uh—” He swallows, his throat clicking. “Colors. I use colors. Green means go, red means stop, yellow means…yellow. You know what yellow means.” Hopefully. Stiles can’t really think right now. “You know what yellow means?”

“Yeah.” Derek’s hand settles on his hip. “If you want me to stop, you say red, or you let go. You do not let me keep going if you want me to stop. Promise.” Stiles nods; he would agree to just about anything right now. But Derek scowls at him, hand moving away, which, no. No, come back, hand. “Promise me, Stiles, or I’m not doing this.”

“I promise.”

“What do you promise?”

Wow, Derek is really serious about this. “I promise not to let you do anything to me that I don’t want.”

“Good.” And then Derek leans down and licks a long line all the way down Stiles’s dick, and Stiles gasps because holy fuck. “You okay?”

“I’m green. I’m so green, I could be a grocer. With an apostrophe. Jesus Christ please do that again.”

Derek’s teeth close around his thigh, hard enough to hurt. “One of these days I’m going to get something to fill your mouth with.” And then he starts to work his way back towards Stiles’s dick, licking and sucking and biting as he goes.

“Why don’t you—” Stiles loses what he’s saying, for a second, his hips jerking up until Derek shoves them back down. “Ah—you have something that you can do that with now, don’t you? Let me suck you off or—fuck—or—don’t you like to hear me talk?”

Derek’s mouth ends up just above his skin, his breath hot against Stiles, and he almost lets go to pull Derek down that last inch so he can _do something goddamn it_. “Maybe I’ll make you talk around it, just to see you try.” And then he leans down and takes half of Stiles into his mouth, and Stiles just—

He tries to pay attention to what’s going on, to the feeling of Derek’s mouth on him, his tongue, his hands, the burn of his grip against his thighs where he’s definitely going to have bruises tomorrow, tries to keep his body from fucking up into Derek’s mouth, tries to keep his hands on the headboard, but he just—

“Please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease fuck Derek please I need you pleasepleaseplease—”

Derek rolls his eyes up to meet his gaze, which is really fucking hot, and then he pulls off to ask, “Is there something you need?”

All Stiles can muster is a whine, but Derek _doesn’t go back to sucking him off_ , which means he wants an answer. Out loud. Which Stiles doesn’t know if he’s particularly capable of at the moment. “Fuck me. Please. God. Please. Fuck me.”

Derek snorts. “Not today.” And then he goes back to torturing Stiles, bringing him close enough that he almost comes and then backing off until it feels like he’s going to go crazy.

Which is not fucking useful.

“Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease—no, fuck, don’t stop—”

“Hands.” Derek leans back, somehow taking his entire body off of Stiles without really moving, which is really fucking frustrating, and oh shit, he took his hands off the headboard.

He grabs back on, even though obviously Derek noticed that he let go. “That was a mistake, not a red.”

“Was it really?”

“Yes. Yes. Please.” Stiles wants to reach for him, but he won’t let go again. He won’t. He’ll do what he’s supposed to, and he’ll keep his hands on, and goddamn it he doesn’t want Derek to stop.

Derek leans forward, jeans-clad legs bracketing Stiles’s, and he’s really close again. And the way that he’s looking at Stiles is like he owns him, like he can do anything he wants with him and there’s not a damn thing Stiles can do about it. “Beg.”

“Please, please, please, touch me, please, let me come, please, I’ll be good, I promise, I promise.” His hips jerk up again, until Derek pins them back down. “Please, please, fuck me, blow me, do whatever you want, please.”

“And if I want to watch you lay here and beg?”

Fuck. Fuck, he wants to come, but Derek’s running the show, and he’s not going to stop this.

“Please. I’ll be good. Please.”

Derek stares at him for another few seconds—it feels like forever, but Stiles knows it’s not, knows it can’t be, and all he can do is breathe and cling on to the headboard so he doesn’t let go. And then he smiles. “Good choice.”

And then he leans down and swallows Stiles’s entire dick, and Stiles comes with a cry.

Once he can actually think again, he finds Derek hovering over him, a little bit of cum at the corner of his mouth, which is really fucking hot, and maybe if he hadn’t just come he would be hard again, but he’s not fifteen anymore. “Holy fuck.”

Something touches his hand, and he realizes his hands are still clenched around the headboard, and now that the endorphins are fading a little, that hurts. A lot. “Hey.” Derek’s voice is soft now, completely different from just a minute ago. “Hey, let go. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

He tries to unclench them, but they’re cramping now, and Derek peels his fingers off one-by-one until he lets go, arms following to his sides. Hello, pins and needles. And mostly right now he just wants to curl up with Derek and fall asleep, but Derek is dragging him up and out of bed so they can go shower.

Or so he assumes from the vague gestures Derek is making towards the bathroom, given that he isn’t saying anything. But that’s okay, because Derek has his arm around him and Stiles feels fantastic.

**Author's Note:**

> The next piece will return to the plot, I promise.


End file.
